


Whisperbright

by Gothams_Only_Wolf



Series: Red Wings and Silver Stars [1]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel (Comics)
Genre: Awesome Sam Wilson, Canon-Typical Violence, Gen, Sam Can Talk to Birds, Sam Wilson is a Gift, Sam Wilson-centric, Samtember
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-23
Updated: 2015-09-23
Packaged: 2018-04-23 00:02:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,267
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4855640
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Gothams_Only_Wolf/pseuds/Gothams_Only_Wolf
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sam can talk to birds. He'd like you to know, for the record, that Polly hates crackers and would rather be eating a piece of fruit or a nut.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Whisperbright

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by illustratedkate's amazing drawings of Sam and birds! Plus it's Samtember and for once I'm on time~
> 
> http://illustratedkate.tumblr.com/post/125037525157/my-bird-son-is-a-bird-dad

* * *

Sam's reluctant to share that he can communicate with birds. It's not really a mutant thing nor strictly a human thing. He's just been able to do it for as long as he can remember.

* * *

Sam is eight the first time it happens; a dark morph red-shouldered hawk that lands in the middle of the playground, wing breaking on impact. 

Some of the older boys go to poke the screeching, hissing bird, enormous as it is. 

_This hurts! How will I hunt? Predators? Go away! I am not afraid to bite!_ Sam's eyes grow wide as the screeching turns into English with a lady voice. He looks to see if anyone else can hear it but no one can... Just him then. Okay.

"Leave her alone!" The anger that bubbles over in his chest culminates in Sam shoving one of the bigger boys away from the hawk, now panting with wide golden eyes blinking at him. "She's hurt and you're making it worse." Sam strips off his jacket and offers it to the wobbling bird, earning himself a skree and more words. 

_What is that? It smells warm._

"It's to keep you safe," Sam says as if it's the most natural thing in the world. "I'm gonna help you fly again." 

The older boys scatter as Sam approaches the still hissing bird to lay the jacket on the ground. 

_Two-legged speaking our tongue? I suppose you cannot be all bad._ She says with that odd noise that only hawks and falcons make as she steps into the folds of the jacket. Sam wraps her up safely while gently tying the sleeves just beneath her broken wing, the feathers bent and bloody. _How is it you know our tongue?_

"I dunno. One second, I hear regular bird noises 'n the next... I hear you clear as day. Like you're speaking two-legged." Sam admits as he carries the heavy bird into the school, his steps sure and steady as he takes her to his science teacher Mrs. Hernandez. "Are you alright aside from your wing?" 

_Yes,_ she pants some more and her eyes get a white film over them that slides back again to reveal the solid golden color. _I do not know if I will fly again._

"You will. They'll fix you right up, I promise." Sam argues as they stand in front of the science room door. 

"Sam?! Oh. You brought her here." 

"How'd you know she's a girl?" Sam asks. He keeps quiet the fact that he can hear her voice. 

"Well, hawks are what we call a dimorphic species; one where the girls are bigger than the boys. She's too big to be a boy." Mrs. Hernandez replies with a smile. "Here. We'll put her in a box—" 

The hawk hisses out a low threat as Mrs. Hernandez reaches for her. _No! Him or not at all._

"Oh dear." 

"I can put her in the box, I think. Can I try?" Sam asks politely as Mrs. Hernandez brushes dust off of an old box under her desk, well away from Sam and his hawk. He's not sure when she became _his_ necessarily but he knows this like he knows Mom's birthday.

"Alright." He settles her into the box with a towel in it, making sure her wing touches nothing on the way in. "I think she's falling asleep." 

"Rightly so. I'm sure that wing hurts something awful, Sam." Mrs. Hernandez murmurs as she uses the school phone to poke in some numbers and puts it to her ear. "Yes, hello? I'd like to speak to someone about an injured hawk?" 

Someone talks and Mrs. Hernandez makes various noises of understanding. 

"She's quiet now. One of my students wrapped her in his jacket with the wing left out. She won't let anyone else touch her." She frowns and looks at Sam and his hawk. "I suppose I could bring him along." 

More talking and then she hangs up. 

"Mrs. Hernandez?" 

"We'll have to ask your Mom if you can help me take this bird to the Hawk Mountain Conservancy." 

"Really?" Sam smiles brightly as he picks up the box with a grunt but stands still to adjust to the weight.

* * *

What follows is a very odd schedule for an eight-year-old (eight and three-quarters; it _totally_ counts). 

Sam goes to school, does his homework and his Mom drives him out to see Redwing (though the Conservancy calls her Ella). He's not allowed in her aviary but he sits outside of it on the ground and talks to her about everything he saw that day while she heals up. 

"And today... Today I had another bird talk to me. He was meaner than you." 

_How so, little one?_ Redwing sort of sounds like his Mom after she's no longer in pain. 

"Seagull." Sam shrugs as he pokes bits of his roast-beef through the holes in the fence, Redwing catching them before they touch the ground. 

_That explains quite a bit. They are rather rude for a species._

"He wanted my other sandwich." He hums as he takes a bite out of his mustard and roast beef sandwich. "Was tuna." 

_Could you bring a mouse next time? Alive, if you can._ Redwing asks as she grooms her unwrapped wing. _Or even that pesky gull, if you like._ she teases. 

"Hunting practice?" he asks as he leans back against the wiring so that she can reach his hair to groom him. Sam stops questioning it after the third time she asked him to turn around. 

_You are a sharp little thing. Yes. I tire of already dead mice and pieces of meat._ she kees softly and then murmurs, _Not that I do not appreciate pieces of your food, Sam._

"I know," he laughs as her beak brushes his ear. "I'd get bored too if I had to chase my food for a living." 

"Hey, kid, you're not supposed to be that close—" Redwing hisses at the intern who's only been working less than the time Sam's been coming here. 

"Jeff, you're so new it hurts a little." comes the snort from Dazi. "Sam and Ella are practically besties. She hates literally everyone else." 

"... Even Dr. Evans?" 

"Even him." 

"Oh." 

"You're lucky Sam's the opposite of Ella."

* * *

The day Redwing's supposed to be released back into the wild, Sam's crying a little. He swipes at his tears until his Mom hands him a tissue so he can blow his nose. Redwing gives a triumphant **_-KEE-YEEH-_** and then arcs overhead, flying so high that they can barely see her. Sam's shoulders slump as they turn to head back for the car. 

He squeaks when flapping wings are the only thing that alert him to Redwing landing on his right shoulder to groom his slightly longer curls. 

"Shoo." 

_I am not going anywhere._ She huffs softly as she carefully distributes her weight as to not shred his jacket shoulder. _You saved my life and allowed me to fly when I thought I never would again._

"I can't keep you. I'm not old enough." 

_I will follow you home. I will make my nest above your living place and I will wait until you may chose._

"It's gonna take six summers or longer." Sam warns as the Conservancy personnel only shake their heads from a distance. 

"Sam?" Dazi inquires patiently with a wry smile tugging at her brown lips. 

"Yeah?" 

"We can keep an eye on her out here, if you'd like. You can get a falconry license after you pass the test and find a sponsor," Dazi points out as Redwing shuffles away from the gloved Jeff trying to recapture her, catching a finger to bite down on when he attempts it again. 

"Ouch!" 

"She doesn't like you," Dazi reminds the guy, shaking her head at the idiocy. "Ella will go where she feels like." She hands Sam a glove so he can stretch out his arm and let Redwing take off again.

* * *

Sam visits on weekends to hang out with Redwing as he grows up, inordinately pleased when Redwing shows him her juvenile chicks who have just learned how to fly. 

_Darkwing, Sparrowhunt, Mouser, this is Sam._ Redwing proudly introduces him. 

_**A two-legged?**_ Sparrowhunt, a lighter version of Redwing and nearly as big as her Mom asks as she walks closer on the hanging branch. _**Mom says you saved her life.**_

"I got her wing healed up." Sam demures as he strokes Redwing's chest feathers. "Guess that's a death sentence if you're a hawk." 

_**The birds we hunt can't fly very far 'cause Mom breaks thier wing with her talons.**_ Sparrowhunt murmurs as she flies down into Sam's lap. _**What're you doing to Mom?**_

"Petting. She says it feels nice, like grooming." 

_**oh.**_ Sparrowhunt tilts her head and then shoves it under his free hand. **_C'n I have some?_**

"Of course."

* * *

Sam smiles at the pet store because all of the birds turn quiet when he comes in, especially the lorikeets who peep invitingly through the glass. 

**You're not like the rest.** the lorikeet stops preening and twitters lightly. 

"No." Sam says and he's so used to conversing with the birds that he ignores the odd looks the employees are giving him. "Can I take a look at this one? I promise he won't fly away." 

"Kid, you need an adult." 

"Can't one of you watch me?" The employees look at one another and play a silent game of 'Nose Goes' that ends with a hissed curse word from the gangly manager. 

"Fine. But your parents gotta pay for the bird if it does fly outta here." The managers says with a frown. Sam hums as he offers his hand to the lorikeet and the bird climbs up his shoulder to settle in his wild tangle of curls. "What the-" 

"I told ya, he's not going anywhere." Sam repeats with an eye roll at the rainbow lorikeet. "He just wants to hang out." 

**You are such an interesting two-legged. You smell like hawk and yet there's no trace of blood.** The lorikeet peeps with a curious tone. 

"Nope. Redwing cleans off in a birdbath before she visits." Sam replies, probably looking silly to the pet store employees. "Did you come from the jungle?" 

**... You are a smart one. Most of my family is here with me and so are my nestmates. They sell us in pairs so it is not as lonely as you might think, little one.** the lorikeet reassures Sam while he grooms Sam's curls, careful to detangle any knot he comes across with a slight tug on Sam's hair. 

"Oh, okay." 

**It is close to feeding time. You may put me back.**

"I'm done, Mr." Sam gently plucks the lorikeet out of his hair and cradles him until they open the enclosure, the bird landing on the large branch inside. The chatty bird chirruped sweetly as Sam waved goodbye. "Thank you, Mr. Manager."

* * *

He encounters several more bird species who seem to have gotten the word that Sam understands _all_ of them. They complain about space in the subway stations, silly things like who has the right to the worms in the DC parks and best of all, there are birds who want to tell him _stories_. 

He encounters the third sort in late February, wearing a blue scarf with matching ear muffs and his Uncle's old tan gloves along with his new jacket (Redwing's talons had finally shredded the sleeve of his windbreaker last year in November). 

**Is that him?**

_Well, he's not gonna answer if we sit here like bumps on a log._

_**H-Hello?**_ The bird's little and bright blue with an orange chest; a kingfisher then. Sam's taken to reading all about birds in his spare time. He finds out that birds get offended when you mis-label thier species. _**Are you the Falcon?**_

"Is that what they're calling me?" Sam laughs as he holds out his finger for the bird to land on. "Seems sorta official." 

**I _told_ you.** comes the triumphant words from another kingfisher, this one a bit bigger. 

_Yeah, yeah, go fly into a pole... So, it's true._

"Yup." Sam hums. "So, you guys have any problems?" 

_**Not really. Can we tell you about the time all the rivers froze up early and humans had to help us out?**_ the littlest kingfisher cheeps out. 

"That sounds pretty cool." Sam leans on the railing of the little creek's bridge. "What happened?" The other two make themselves at home in his hair. 

He grins as the little one launches into an epic tale of people breaking open patches of ice so the kingfishers could eat until migration season. 

_**And then we got so fat we almost didn't make it to our nesting spot!** _

**You mean you did. Some of us were more reasonable.**

_Peace. You can tell we're nestmates, can't you?_ the oldest sighs and Sam nods as slowly as he can. _It was nice meeting you._

* * *

When Mom and Dad die within months of each other, Sam's distraught. Dazi adopts him and his sisters, allowing them to sleep in the bed with her for the first few months after Mom and Dad have passed. 

Sam wants to scream, cry and rage at the world but Dazi channels his grief into chores. She makes sure he spends a lot of time with Redwing and her offspring, only Darkwing lingering around the territory still. 

Both birds help him work through his anger at the injustice of the world along with teaching him to guide his sisters through the process as well. 

Sam keeps Tanya and Maharet close, teaching them to defend themselves should someone try to pick a fight or start something they can't finish. 

He goes through school with his head down for the most part. Sam's friendly but cautious, always willing to lend a hand. His ability with birds only grows as he speaks with more species than he has up to this point, some of them almost ethereal (like the eagles along with the surprisingly elegant crows and ravens). 

**Samuel, what have you learned today?** Bones the raven asks him after school when he's cleaning out the various homes of the conservancy. 

"More math and history; science is tomorrow." Sam replies as he finishes the last aviary to climb the tree Bones is in. 

**History? What kind?**

"Of DC. You have any tales for that?" he teases. 

**It depends, I suppose, on what you would like to hear. We have tales from eras that have come and gone. It is our duty to remember all history we see before us.** Bones offers lightly. 

"So, if I said, a battle during the Revolutionary War..." 

**I would reply which battle and how many dead we counted. Ravens are creatures of war and death as well as life. Remember that, Samuel.**

"I will." He says, ingraining each lesson taught deep into his mind.

* * *

By his senior year, Sam's known as the helpful bird kid, mostly because he does chores at the conservancy. He's varsity volleyball and runs track all the way up until he graduates. Redwing's been his registered hawk since the beginning of his freshman year, which also might have something to do with his nickname. 

He leaves her behind to go through basic training, only to find she flew some thousands of miles outside of migration season to follow him there. 

" _Redwing_. You're gonna give the scientists studying bird patterns a heart attack if you keep following me." Sam chides as he lets her in through the barracks window just before lights out. 

_I missed our talks._ she kee-yees softly, barely making any noise on the bed. _All of my offspring have left and I do not find the same passion in hunting as I used to, Sam._

"Wilson, you bring back a girl?" 

"No." Sam fires back at the dumb guy in his squad. "Go before they catch you." She nods and flaps out of the window again as the sun sets, fire glowing at her shoulders as she sounds off a **_-KEE-YEEH-_** to tell Sam good night. 

_Good night. I will come by in the morning._

* * *

Redwing becomes so frequent a sight that when she lands on Sam's shoulder, it doesn't even cause too much ruckus. 

"Wilson.... Is that a hawk on your shoulder?" 

"Yes Sgt." Sam replies by rote before the question actually registers as does Redwing's weight. "She's mine and she won't cause any harm, Sgt." 

"... You got a permit or whatever you need, Wilson?" The Sergeant asks with a raised brow. Sam fishes out his Massachusetts license absently as he presses his face against Redwing's covert feathers. "She gon' cause any trouble?" 

"No. Just don't touch her and we should be golden, Sgt." Sam replies as he digs his fingertips into her chest feathers and she churrs lightly. 

"You heard the man. Don't touch the bird." The sergeant yells but turns back to him with a pensive expression. "If she followed you all the way here, Pvt. Wilson, from D.C. is she gonna follow you everywhere?" 

"Most likely, Sgt. My apologies." 

"Deployments." 

"Yes Sgt. She's extremely smart and more loyal that she has a right to be, Sgt." Sam looks at her hard but all she does is the unique call hawks, falcons and eagles are known for. "She'll follow me onto the plane if you let her." 

Redwing huffs out an indignant breath and takes off in a flurry of feathers and a screech full of words Sam's sure don't need translating.

* * *

He gets assigned to a Nevada AFB in the 58th Rescue Squadron. Mostly it's exercises and the occasional flash-flood rescue that keeps him occupied. Redwing becomes the unofficial mascot of the 58th as she spots many a person that would have drowned had she not noticed them in her aerial sweeps of the area in question. 

"How long have you had her anyway, Wilson?" Riley asks as they sit in the shade of one of their buildings with Redwing drinking out of a wide-rimmed cup Sam keeps especially for her. 

"Going on... Thirteen years now. Huh. She's not the oldest but she's pretty close." 

"Who's the oldest?" 

"Some bird in Florida." Sam shrugs gently, making Redwing nip at his ear. "Ouch." 

_She's a great deal older in our sense. You have some respect for her._ Redwing chides and Sam strokes her wing in apology. 

"Sorry." 

_Apology accepted. Are you going to tell this one your secret?_ She murmurs as Riley looks between Sam and Redwing. 

"Ah, hell. I might as well let **someone** know." Sam turns to Riley and states baldly, "I can talk to birds." 

"Okay. The heat's going to your head, Sam. I thought I heard you say—" Riley mimes cleaning out his ears before Sam rolls his eyes. 

"You did." 

"Uh-huh. I'll believe that when I see it." 

Sam sighs and whistles loudly with two fingers in his mouth to signal the golden eagle that liked to nest at the edge of the Base. 

**You called, Falcon?** the enormous eagle lands on his knee, careful to keep her talons from piercing the fabric. 

"This one wants proof that I talk to birds." 

**You are speaking of your secret? I would warn you that is unwise, Samuel, but this one seems close to you.** She huffs out with a staccato noise following it. 

Sam repeats it word for word and Riley... Riley faints. Great. The eagle brushes her feathers across Riley's face and his best friend sits up with a gasp. 

"You-You actually talk to them. Have you told anyone else?" 

"Just you." Sam gives Riley a nervous smile and Riley carefully hugs him, making sure not to touch either bird. "Pretty cool though." 

"Bet your ass it is. You've known Redwing for how long?" 

"Since I was eight. First time I heard a bird and it hasn't really stopped," Sam admits as he uses his hands to lavish affection onto both raptors. They communicate in fledgling speak, a lesser-used dialect that Sam still understands but he tunes it out in favor of Riley. 

"Wow. That's a long time to keep that a secret. Is it all of them or just the bigger ones?" 

"All of them and they don't always understand one another..."

* * *

Sam does scream when Riley falls. He gets blown back by the explosion but Redwing and what seems to be most of the bird population in the area dive with a united, horrifying screech. The enemy is cut to ribbons with fierce hawk, falcon and songbird talons and beaks, the men fleeing as Sam heads back for base, tears being whipped away by the wind. 

He stumbles upon landing, the soot and smoke enough to tell the story he can't say at the moment. 

"What happened to your co-pilot?" 

"RPG." Sam gasps out before oblivion takes over.

* * *

The official report mentions the enemy with wounds that correspond to nothing they've ever seen but Sam won't tell them about the birds. Redwing is a heavy but reassuring weight on his shoulder, her quiet churrs and peeps a comfort he thought he'd never have to hear again. Tanya and Maharet both call him within days of his injuries and losing Riley, their support bolstering him further. 

He's medically discharged, the Falcon suit locked away in Fort Knox and Sam almost, _almost_ drifts into a routine of blindly getting through the day had it not been for his sisters and his hawk. 

Tanya wakes him up every day for a run with her, poking and prodding him into getting out of bed. Maharet challenges him to do something to help both himself and others, pinning him with a solid gaze of almost black-brown as she hands him pamphlets for VA counseling. 

Redwing refuses to let him, in her words, stagnate and rot away under his blanket nest. She brings in Anya (the eagle from Nevada) and Mouser, the last of her offspring in the DC area to get him up after his sisters return to work. 

_Up! You have to eat and then move, Sam._ Redwing says as she perches on his bed frame. 

**_Samuel, up. The late raptor is a dead one._** Anya lands on his leg, her talons grazing his thigh as she stares him down. 

**Sam, please?** Mouser's quiet for the most part, only speaking rarely to Sam and Redwing. He'd been caught and used for a year by a bad hunter, only to be released when he didn't cooperate. (Sam had reported the falconer after hearing it from Mouser.) 

"Mm-up Mouse. You start my coffee?" Sam yawns. 

**yes.**

**_You have much learning to do, Samuel. Up!_** Anya says as she takes off to land on the back of Sam's chair in his kitchen. 

He's got a mews but the birds rarely use it unless they have bodily functions. It means there's shed feathers pretty much all over his furniture that he'll have to clean that weekend. 

"Okay, okay. Bossy birds." He mutters fondly, gently running his fingers through the hawk's and eagle's feathers on his way to the bathroom. 

_Only because we love you Sam._ Redwing points out dryly as Sam gets ready for his morning run. 

"I know," Sam pokes his head out from behind the shower curtain to say,"and don't sit on my toilet to groom yourself, Anya. You scared the shit out of me last week when you did that." 

**_Only trying to help, Samuel._** she teases and Sam snorts a little in amusement. 

"Suuure. That's what you always say."

* * *

His recovery is a slow thing, a progress he measures in the amount of birds versus people he speaks to. 

Sam realizes while he's eating that pigeons have been milling around his feet. He grins as two get brave enough to land on him when he finishes his Nutella éclair and coffee. He's tempted to sing that silly song from Enchanted, only because sometimes he feels like Giselle but with birds instead of everything. 

The first few bars end up coming out of his mouth anyway and the birds burble along so well that Sam cracks up laughing so hard there's tears in his eyes. 

"Mama look! That man's a Disney princess." The little girl tugs on her Mom's sleeve and Sam winks when her mother tugs her in the opposite direction, telling one of the pigeons to land on her finger. She giggles as the bird coos for a moment before fluttering away. 

"I love my job." Sam murmurs to no one in particular, causing the pigeons to snicker.

* * *

The whole mess H.Y.D.R.A. ends up getting Sam his wings back, Redwing warning him a second too late late that the Winter Soldier is going to grab him. 

_SAM!_ She cries out, her talons gripping at his shirt briefly before the fabric tears. _Anya, get the other eagles!_

Sam slows down gradually, eagles and hawks and **gulls** (easily the most selfish birds Sam has ever known) gripping his wings and gliding him towards the Triskelion building. He rolls to a halt in front of Rumlow, punching him in the face with a satisfactory crunch as he breaks the man's nose. 

His free-fall into the helicopter with Fury marks an event. They're escorted for a few miles by the eagles, Redwing managing to slip into the windy compartment with an indignant **_-KEE-YAAR-_** plus a swat with her wing to Sam's head. 

"Ouch! I'm already bruised, Red." 

_Pull that stunt again and we might not be able to control your descent._ she snaps with a click of her beak. 

"I'm sorry, okay? I can't make any promises though." Sam cradles her to his chest, making sure not to crush any of her flight feathers. 

_Better, I suppose._ Redwing huffs with a soft noise. 

"You wanna let us in on that conversation, Wilson?" Fury asks as they fly to safety. 

"Not really. Sorta being chewed out as it is." Sam absently replies, sliding his fingers down to groom Red's soot-covered feathers. 

"...Okay."

* * *

When Steve finally wakes up, Sam's doodling on a hospital napkin, Redwing making snarky comments on his ability to draw feathers. 

_I can draw better and I do not have opposable thumbs._ she points out as Sam rolls his eyes. _Your flock leader is awake._

"Sam?" 

"Steve." 

"Is that a bird on your shoulder or am I seeing things?" Steve rasps before Sam pours him a glass of water to drink. 

"She's there alright. Redwing, meet Steve. Steve, my hawk Redwing." 

"She's pretty." Steve mumbles after listening to Marvin Gay for a second. 

"He thinks you're pretty. No idea of the sass behind that poker face." 

Redwing whistles in amusement and replies, _Not hiding your ability anymore?_

"Nah. Getting tired of lying to people and birds," Sam murmurs in response to Steve's confused look and Redwing's kee-ee. "I can talk to birds. Y'know, last person I told ended up leaving me..." 

"Riley?" Steve guesses roughly before taking another sip of water from the straw Sam had stuck in the cup. 

"Yeah. He took it pretty well, all things considering. Think I've lost it?" He questions lightly. 

"Hm-mm. Gabe had a thing with foxes." Steve states with a brief, sore-looking smile. 

"Oh?" His voice does _not_ crack at that information. It doesn't. Sam will swear up and down it was nice and even. 

"Spoke to 'em like you do your hawk." Steve says and Sam's knee-jerk reaction is to ask where Gabe is. "His kids and grand-kids don't have the ability and Gabe's less lucid than he was but... I'll take you to see him sometime." 

"Thanks man."

* * *

Sam's first impression of Gabriel Jones, former Howling Commando, is very simple: Gabe is **just** like him. 

Foxes are gathered at his feet with one very lanky fox kit in his lap and chewing at his hands absently. 

"Gabe, this is Sam Wilson. Sam, this is Gabriel Jones, part of the Howling Commandos and one of the founding members of S.H.I.E.L.D." Steve introduces them but there's a crackle in the air that isn't visible to anyone else. 

"You got it too, huh, kid." Gabe's voice is strong and steady as he pats the one clear spot next to him. Redwing's on his shoulder and she ruffles her feathers to preen gently. "Is it species restricted?" 

"All of them." Sam says as he watches the family of ducks and duckling argue the best spot in the pond for food. "I've managed to reduce most of it to white noise. I'm more attuned to predators though. Clearer words and they seem to resonate better." 

"Hmm. Not a lot of us, you know. We have to stick together." 

"Ever meet...?" 

"Dernier but he kept it quiet. Never did find out." Gabe shrugs and cards his fingers through the fox kit's fur. "This one's the last descendant of my girl Elaine from Germany." 

"Redwing's my first. She had a few fledglings and we keep in touch." Sam explains as Redwing kee-eers softly. 

Steve's helping Tanya and Maharet's adopted kids build a sandcastle in the playbox, happy for what seems like the first time in a while. 

Gabe snorts softly at Steve's interactions. "You keep an eye on that one." 

"Any reason in particular, Mr. Jones?" 

"Gabe, please, and you know as well as I do that one attracts trouble like nobody's business. Go find Buck but make sure Steve eats and remembers to be a person, not the super soldier he's become." comes the knowledgable reply. 

"Yeah, sure." Sam and Gabe chat some more, trading tips and tricks for speaking to the animals they know. 

"If it expands, sonny, let me know." 

"I will."

* * *

He meets another raptor after a nightmare, the barn owl gently climbing across his bare arm to groom his curls that are growing out with a soft skree. 

_I trust you are well, Falcon?_ she asks as she presses her face against his cheek. 

"Better than I was. What's your name?" 

_Titania. The Horned Owls know of your reputation but thought I would not be as frightening after such a howl as you gave._ she bobs her head and Sam uses the back of his knuckles to stroke Titania's soft chest feathers, the edges different from Redwing's or Anya's. _I have already finished hunting. Would you like to speak? Sometimes your dead and ours communicate._

Sam sits in his armchair and tenderly pets Titania as he spills his story out into the semi-cold night, the wind fluttering in the thick linen curtains as the owl listens intently.

* * *

It doesn't change at all over the next few months and then Sam does something he's thought about doing but never actually put into practice. He gathers as many birds as he can find and asks them to find James "Bucky" Buchanan Barnes. 

"Use every flock you can find. Use fledgling language if you must but I need that man found. My flock is... incomplete without him." Sam pleads with the representative leaders. 

**Have no fear, Samuel.** Bones croaks out. 

**_Agreed._** Anya keers with a flap of her golden wings. 

_We will find him._ Mouser whistles softly, pressing in when Sam strokes his head. Redwing peeps encouragingly, bringing Sam's attention to an awed Steve watching him work. 

The birds fly off in a flurry of feathers, gold flickering against jet black and ruddy red to match the brilliant blue, white and multi-colored feathers of the others Sam has come to know. 

"That... That was kind of amazing." 

"Feels like it." Sam hums as he leans against Redwing's side, feathers tickling his cheek.

**Author's Note:**

> Comment, complain, ect.


End file.
